AN: Title and idea come from a song called 'Hiding'. I kind of hate it, because it's sappy and I normally don't do sappy. BUT it came on and I was just like, "KITTY AND JONATHAN NEED TO HAVE THIS SONG."
I'm sorry in advance.
Voodoo-Mutant-Child-We didn't even break out to DO anything this time! You haven't met the lunatic in charge of security! And you know he's a nutter when WE say he's a nutter.
Jasmine Scarthing-Actually PAYING for McDonald's...I could make better food than that! You set ramen on fire. Good point. But I resent paying for soggy sausage. I didn't like it either, but it was necessary.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-I dealt with him. Painfully. He keeps his hands to himself now. Actually, all he does is cower in the corner of his cell with the light on. Sometimes I knock on the window and make him shriek.
He never broke a promise to her before. Not once.
But he did tonight. He didn't come back.
It was supposed to be a fairly routine pick-up. But the police were tipped off-or got lucky, she doesn't know which-and the warehouse went up like a flour mill. The news said that three people were presumed dead-Police Sergeant Alex Bell, civilian (their contact, actually) Charles Klinger, and the Scarecrow.
Somebody got footage of the explosion, and they've been playing it on and off for the past half-hour. She finally ended up muting the stupid thing, but she can't turn it off, just…just in case they're wrong.
But they're not wrong. He'd be back by now if they were wrong. She knows it, way down, but there's still a smidge of hope at the bottom of Pandora's Box.
She hates it.
Her hands are shaking. Her whole body is shaking, actually, but she doesn't want to get up. She doesn't think she can, actually, and she doesn't want to try. It's not worth it.
She wishes she could feel something besides numbness. Surely she should be feeling…something. Why can't she feel something, anything?
"Want me to go with?"
"No need. I'll be back in an hour, it's nothing exciting."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. I'll be back in an hour, I promise. You're not missing anything."
But he hadn't kept that promise, had he?
Something-sadness or shock or god-knew-what-bubbled in her throat and choked her, forcing her to bend over and cough. The bubble broke, but another came in its place.
"Why the concern?"
"I've never liked this guy."
"It can't be helped." He kissed her forehead and straightened up. "Don't wait up."
"Jonathan." He turned, looking exasperated and a little worried. "Be careful."
"Sure."
She chokes again and curls up in the armchair.
You promised you'd come back.
Her stomach clenches and she coughs, tasting bile. She's going to be sick.
She tries not to breathe for a few minutes and the sick feeling fades. The bubble in her throat does not.
She draws her knees up to her chest and digs them into her eyes. Now she can't breathe, no matter how hard she tries.
Salt water forms a puddle on the knees of her jeans and she forces a breath through her mouth. Then the dam breaks.
Jonathan…
The door doesn't open and the only thing the news will play is the thirty-second mobile phone footage.
THE END